


Peace

by justasparkwriting



Series: folklore [4]
Category: RPF - Fandom, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Dating, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Folklore, Jin - Freeform, Love, Oral Sex, Peace, Rm, Sex, Vaginal Sex, bts - Freeform, jeon jungkook - Freeform, jimin - Freeform, plus size, suga - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27376288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasparkwriting/pseuds/justasparkwriting
Summary: Jungkook’s coming of age has come and gone. As the Golden Maknae, he has to negotiate who is, what he wants, and how that fits into the life he’s seemingly signed away.
Relationships: Jeon Jungkook/Original Female Character(s), Jeon Jungkook/Reader, Jeon Jungkook/You
Series: folklore [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012737
Comments: 11
Kudos: 49





	1. Coming of Age

**Author's Note:**

> Jungkook's coming of age has come and gone. As the Golden Maknae, he has to negotiate who is, what he wants, and how that fits into the life he's seemingly signed away.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jungkook takes his first steps in creating a life for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I rewrote parts to fit into a larger narrative)

Jungkook paced the room, the grey walls agitating him as he searched for answers. He’d filmed the video five times. Three with a hoodie on, two without. He kept refilming to perfect his vocals, or at least that’s what he told himself. Perfectionism was easier to grapple with than baring his soul to millions. Was he ready to show the world what he’d done?

Jungkook had spent the last third of his life in the spotlight. The articles, photos, videos, all captured him growing up. He went from a fresh-faced tween barely through puberty to a full-fledged man. He had grown in front of their eyes, finished high school, and debuted with a band that had captured the world’s attention. He had been taken under the wings of Jin and his five other hyungs. They had watched him struggle, both academically and professionally. They had guided him through the drastic changes in his life, from leaving his family to relentless dance practices and endless vocal lessons. They guided him when he was falling apart, and through their love he had grown into the man he could happily say he is. He’d taken little parts of their personalities and combined them into his own. It was hard to tell when JK ended and the six hyungs began.

JK hadn’t told the rest of BTS of his plans, of what he wanted to do in order to feel that he had completed his metamorphosis. He was cagey, dodging glances and prying questions. He was private, but there wasn’t anything he couldn’t tell them. Except this. It wasn’t until they had snuck up on him one day and caught him reading an article about the significance of tattoos in western culture that they grew concerned that he would taint his flawless skin.

Ho-Seok sat him down first, tone damning, asking him what he intended to do, and why would he choose to ruin his body? Through the years Jungkook had become accustomed to Ho-Seok’s aversion to anything that would harm or change his physical form. Dying his hair was the closest thing he would do, and even that felt like he was desecrating a sacred temple. He didn’t pierce his ears, he certainly would not get tattoos, and though he had an unusually sunny disposition, body modification of any kind made Ho-Seok’s skin crawl. He respected his members decisions to pierce their ears, two, three, five times, but him? No thank you. He had thought that tattoos were always going to be off limits, even when years prior Jungkook had expressed his desire, on camera, to stain his skin. No member had committed to something so permanent. Piercings close, hair can be dyed back, but this?

Ho-Seok couldn’t tell if he was mad at JK for recklessly ruining himself, or worried that his decision would endanger the rest of them.

So, he pled his case, and a day or so later, Namjoon tried to talk any sense into JK. He knew it was no use, but as leader he was mandated to speak to him.

“Why do you want to do this?” Namjoon asked. They were seated outside, beers in both their hands.

“Do you feel like yourself, 100% of the time?” Jungkook countered, glancing at the fading sun.

“90% of the time, yes, I do.” Namjoon responded.

“And you feel comfortable in who you are?”

“Why are you interrogating me?” Namjoon stared at his golden maknae. He had raised this boy, crafted and melded him into the man sitting in front of him. Had it been too much? 

“You write most of our lyrics, you express your emotions.”

“Yes, and I understand how you’re feeling,”

“Do you? I am trying to navigate this life that I somehow signed up for when I was a _child_. I have had to conform every day of my life. I have struggled to find my identity, to showcase who I am, without ever having the time to grow or discover myself. Now I’m a man, who doesn’t know any life outside of constant cameras and the six of you guarding me. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours, but what if there’s nothing of me? What if they’ve taken it all?” 

“You signed up for this Jungkook,” Namjoon felt defensive. His moves, silent and unseen, had pushed Jungkook to this position. His invisible strings had carved him from a child to an adult, his guidance had constructed the golden boy. Namjoon had nurtured Jungkook to be strong in his convictions and fierce at heart. He encouraged his hobbies, to obsession at times, and pared space for him to study and learn, encouraging him to speak English. Didn’t Jungkook know himself better than any members did?

“The devils in the details, Namjoon,” He countered.

“So, what, to feel like yourself you need to permanently decorate your skin?” Namjoon felt the anger rising. Big Hit would surely blame him for this. 

“It’s a part of me, a part of me that I am trying to hold onto. I don’t want to hide part of myself because I’m being told I’m supposed to. I want to be me, I want to make choices for myself,” Jungkook’s passion was evident in the grip he had placed on his glass.

“And what if that part of you changes?” Namjoon wanted to know.

“Are you still the same person you were when we started?” Jungkook asked.

“No, I’ve grown, and I’ve learned a lot,” Namjoon sat back and thought about the challenges he’d overcome in the time BTS had been together.

“Then give me the space to do the same, hyung, please,” Jungkook pleaded.

Namjoon nodded, recognizing that molding Jungkook into the perfect band member had done more damage than he realized, the cracks were beginning to form. When Jungkook had joined, RM and Seokjin had been placed as his guardians. They were to protect him, keep him focused, help him grow. He was a child, a baby, compared to the older two. His insecurity and shyness had tried to swallow him, and would’ve if not for the doting care the members had given him. Namjoon had, in a word, overstepped. His grip on Jungkook’s life was impenetrable to the point that sometimes it was hard to know where Namjoon ended and Jungkook began. He wasn’t raising Jungkook, he was manipulating him. The devil had always been in the details, at the hands of Big Hit, that devil was Namjoon.

“Jin’s supposed to try and knock some sense into you…” Namjoon said, standing.

“What’s he going to say that you and Hosoek-hyung haven’t?” Jungkook asked.

“I don’t know, but listen to him,” Namjoon reminded the maknae to respect his elder, something he had thrown away when speaking with Joon.

Namjoon left, leaving JK to sit in his thoughts. He didn’t know when Jin was planning on showing up, and he wasn’t sure he could handle another confrontation and berating. Jungkook was lost in his thoughts, his glass slowly emptying when Jin strode in, keys in hand.

“Let’s go eat,” He said. Jungkook nodded, following him.

As they sat at their usual table, drinks on their way, Jin wasted no time diving in.

“They’ve all been hard on you?” Seokjin asked.

“Yes,” Jungkook responded.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Jin questioned.

“That you support me,” Jungkook’s gaze never strayed from the empty spot in front of his glass.

“What does management say?” Jin asked, ignoring Jungkook’s suggestion.

“That they can’t technically stop me, but I’ll always be covered. No t-shirts on tour, music videos, anything. If everyone’s in a tank top, I have to be in a tank top with a jacket or long sleeves.”

“Even in summer?” Jin questioned.

“Even then,” Jungkook answered.

“And you’re okay with that?” Jin wondered.

“Yes,”

“Alright, have you thought about ARMY?”

“I can’t imagine they’d be mad at me,” Jungkook said, glancing at Jin. Jin was calm. Jin was always calm, particularly when it came to heady conversations about the direction Jungkook was taking.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jin left it at that. He quickly moved to ask Jungkook what he wanted to order, their usual banter resuming.

* * *

Jungkook sat in the tattoo artists main chair, arm exposed, hand at the ready. The artist asked if he was without a doubt positive he wanted ink decorating his dominate appendage, and he nodded, telling them that each item stood for something. As the artist began, he recounted why.

“The inverted V is for Taehyung, that’s his nickname. He’s funny, and charismatic. The most indecisive person. He is one of the best dancers, and just makes me laugh all the time. He comforts me when I’m upset and is always making sure that I’m okay. RM is for Namjoon, he’s the eternal leader. He’s wise and thinks before he acts. But he’s clumsy. He always pushes me to think deeper, to find the emotion that a song needs, or to remind me to slow down when I’m pushing myself too hard. RM’s our guiding light. M is also for Yoongi, who understands the parts of me that I sometimes think no one does, but he also doesn’t understand the fundamental parts of me… The Y completes ARMY, I am nothing without them.”

The phrase had become common place, BTS is nothing without ARMY. They eat, sleep and breathe ARMY. Who are they if ARMY doesn’t stand beside them, encouraging them on?

ARMY was the reason for his success, but they were also the thorn on his rose. Army watched every move he made, every note he hit, every smile cracked. They’d glommed onto him immediately. Isn’t Jungkook so cute? Did you see how Jungkook dances to Boy in Luv? Have you seen his smile? They cheered when he succeeded and picked him up when he fell. As much as the members had raised JK, he recognized that ARMY was the reason he had to be raised by his hyungs in the first place.

Being raised by people other than your parents is an odd experience. Leaving home and forging a new path without so much as a safety net below would be scary to anyone, but particularly for a child who hadn’t experienced much outside of his home. Jungkook had talent, anyone could see it. He had potential, because he had potential, Big Hit had taken a chance on him. They had molded him and groomed him into a superstar. So much so that by age 23, a song dedicated to him negotiating his stardom with quality of life would become a sexual anthem. Big Hit’s ownership of his existence had sent him into many a tailspin. He compensated the only way he could: working himself to extreme exhaustion and spending nights drunk in the dorms. The other members addressed it delicately, but when his back was turned, they spent countless hours discussing the “problem with Jungkook”.

Perfectionism is often a sign of OCD, a way to control what feels uncontrollable, a way to manage anxiety and stress through precise and repetitive habits. If practice was four hours, Jungkook danced eight. If it took Jimin ten takes to nail an eight count of vocals, Jungkook took twice that. He practiced diligently, sweating through layers and layers, never satisfied until his body gave out. He worked out seven days a week, often hours long sessions not including time with trainers. He was obsessed with his physic and how he could make it stronger. BTS often worried and tried delicately to address their concerns. Jungkook wouldn’t listen, until he blew his heel out an needed stitches. What was meant to be a wake up call ended up giving him more focus and increasing his desire to be perfect.

“Perfect for who?” Suga had asked during an intense discussion of Jungkook’s workaholic tendencies. Jungkook stared at him, Suga, who hates working out, hates other people, and would be content to sleep for days on end, was asking him a stupid question. He turned to Ho-Seok, who nodded.

“Perfect for ARMY, perfect for him,” Ho-Seok had responded.

Ho-Seok and Jimin both nodded. The three of them formed the dance line, the strongest dancers with Taehyung closing in at #4. Together they banked hundreds of practice hours, innumerable tapings and work ups by the medical team, and were responsible for BTS’ dance routines coming together. They bore the brunt of the work, and their bodies, though young, managed the wear and tear. Ho-Seok worked hard, but Jungkook worked harder.

Namjoon listened to every conversation about Jungkook with ears peeled, writing down any information he needed. If there was a problem with Jungkook, it would soon fall to Namjoon to correct, though his perfectionism had been a drug Namjoon had heavily pushed.

“What’s the J for?” The tattoo artist asked, pulling Jungkook out of his thoughts.

“That’s for Jin, Jimin and J-Hope,” He responded, looking down at the work being done on his body.

“They’re your elders?”

“Yes, Namjoon and Seokjin raised me. They’re all my brothers, but Namjoon and Jin helped me study, they encouraged me, bought me food and made sure I was spending enough time on studies and training. Jin drove me everywhere before I could drive myself, and he spent years teaching me how to be a good person, and a good man. Jimin’s a terror, and Ho-Seok is the only one who understands my drive.”

“The plus signs tie you together?”

“Yes,”

“The heart? And the symbol?”

“ARMY will know.”

* * *

Jungkook had waited a few days before displaying his ink to BTS. They were skeptical and unsure how they liked what he had done to his right arm. They were honored he had chosen his hand to honor them and concerned what it meant for him going forward.

Jungkook wasn’t ready for the world to see, and neither was management. He spent the first few months with band aids on his hand until his ink was healed, then layers and layers of make-up.

As he paced in the gray room, a cover of Never Not waiting to upload, he decided to honor himself, to honor his heart, and post the video where his tattoos were exposed. Management had said he could share them when he was ready, and it would be at that point that they stopped covering them in make-up, except in specific situations where his ink would be a detriment to the group. He took a deep breath, like his ink, this choice was permanent.

* * *

Once the dust of his ink settled, through a few poor choices and copious empty liquor bottles, he found himself out in West Hollywood. A stranger had commented on his ink, and Jungkook’s mind wound back to the conversation he’d had with the tattoo artist about them. His tattoos meant something to him, and their meaning intensified every day.

This is why, on a chance encounter in a low-light restaurant in WeHo, Jungkook had been so taken with yours. The delicate ink on the back of your arm, the art creeping up your calf sent a shock through him. Who were you, and what did these symbols mean? He cautiously went up to you at the bar, nodding at the bartender who asked for his ID immediately. He flushed. Should he abandon ship?

You turned and smiled. It was blinding.

“Hi, I noticed your tattoos,” He said, thankful he had spent the past few years working on his English.

“Oh,” You were unsure how to respond.

“They’re really beautiful,” He said, his cheeks flushing again. Having spent his youth in Big Hits control, flirting wasn’t a game he knew how to play.

“Thank you,” You responded, your cheeks turning rosy.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asked, right eyebrow raising. You smiled at the quirk.

“Yes, and you can tell me about yours,” You said, already making sense of the ink in front of you, and the man it belonged to.

“I’m Jungkook,” He said, extending the same hand you had been admiring.

“I’m Y/N,” You said, extending yours to shake.

Jungkook swore the earth began to quake at that very second, your skin meeting his for the first time, your smiles blinding the patrons of the restaurant. Everything melted away as the heat from your bodies glued you together. It was in the moment after, when you had unwillingly returned his hand to him that he realized his coming of age had come and gone, he had transitioned into a man, ink and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (find me on Tumblr and instagram under the same username! As always, leave kudos, comments, and say hi!)


	2. Wasting Your Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, we just wanted to talk,” Namjoon said, sitting across from you at their long dining table. 
> 
> “Okay, about what?” You asked, a smile on your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (no one comes off as well... great)

“So, we just wanted to talk,” Namjoon said, sitting across from you at their long dining table.

“Okay, about what?” You asked, a smile on your lips. Jungkook had asked you to meet him at the dorm. You were visiting Korea for the first time and he wanted to show you every important place in Seoul. The dorms being one of them. There had been discussion of sex in his room, a fantasy he’d had but never fulfilled. You were cautious, unsure how his six roommates would react to you spending more time around them than they deemed necessary.

“About you and Jungkook,” Namjoon replied. As the words came out of his mouth, Jin and Suga came to sit on his right and left sides. You glanced at the three men, all dressed in sweats, and wondered if this sinking feeling in your gut was to be trusted.

“What about us?” You asked hesitantly.

“We wanted to talk about the longevity of your relationship, and why the fuck you are dating him,” Yoongi said.

Your interactions with Namjoon, Yoongi and Jin had been polite so far. You’d gone out to dinner with them and had spent a day following them through rehearsals and work. They’d been cordial to you. They hadn’t sought you out or tried to get to know you but watched from the periphery. You took notice that Ho-Seok, Taehyung and Jimin weren’t to be found. While the three hyungs were cool to you, the maknae took to you like snow to the mountains. They had made it their mission to befriend you, to learn all they could, to practice their English with you and ask you silly questions. A text change had already started and was filled with gifs and broken English. The feelings were mutual: you were already obsessed with them.

You looked around the dining room, wondering why Jungkook wasn’t here for this. Where was he?

“So, why Jungkook?” Jin asked, eyes unmoving.

“What do you mean why?” You countered.

“Why are you dating him?” Seokjin answered.

“I’m dating him because I care about him, and I really like him,” You responded, arms instinctively crossing over your chest.

“Do you really like him?” Namjoon pushed.

“Why is that your business?” You countered.

The three men exchanged a glance. They were negotiating, who was going to come down the hardest, and were they going to abandon ship, telling management it was ridiculous? You watched them, eyebrows knitting together, trying to piece together what was transpiring.

“Have you ever dated a pop star before?” Jin asked.

“No,” You said. Your mind was racing to fill in the blanks before they asked for them. Could you brace yourself for whatever impact was coming?

“Why do you think you’re cut out to date Jungkook?” Yoongi asked.

“Why is this your business?” You asked again.

“Have you ever dated someone of Asian heritage?”

Your eyes went wide.

“Are you implying what I think you are?” You whispered.

“Depends, what do you think I’m implying?” Yoongi replied.

“That I’m dating Jungkook because he’s Asian and I have a fetish for Asian men.” You spat the words out. Their lingering taste threatening to make you vomit on the table.

“Then yes, that is what we’re asking.” Yoongi was calculated, he measured his words, gauging what would make you more upset. You were more likely to forgive him if the assumption came out of your own mouth.

“You came out of nowhere, you aren’t wealthy, you aren’t famous, and yet you’ve captured Jungkook’s heart and attention. You take up his time, he’s flying out to see you, calling you at all hours. You are taking over his life, a life he has worked hard to build and rebuild,” Namjoon felt like he was a Principal, scolding a wayward student. He used Managements language as much as he could, an attempt to separate himself from this entire situation, though he knew this was equally his fault. But if he could separate himself, stay true to the promise he’d made Jungkook, then he could absolve himself.

“We met at a restaurant. I haven’t asked him to visit me. He calls me when he can, I’m sorry that it interrupts your life but how is that my fault?”

“It’s your problem because he is spending too much time on you,” Namjoon countered.

“Why aren’t you talking to Jungkook about this? He’s the one you’re having a problem with.” You said. You inhaled slowly, unwilling to show the deep hurt you were feeling.

“But the problem stems from you,” Jin said. You could tell from the glint in his eyes that Jin didn’t want to be there; he didn’t want to have this conversation with you.

* * *

In fact, none of them did. They didn’t want to do this; they didn’t want to be the brass coming down on you and Jungkook. They couldn’t let on that they had fought with management about this. They had many meetings with Big Hit, all of which lasted hours longer than was needed. They opposed this conversation, this bait and switch to get you to either sign an NDA or dump Jungkook. As the three of them sat, two and three drinks in, they had discussed what would happen to their relationship to Jungkook, and how he would handle learning of their conversation with you.

“He’s never going to forgive us,” Yoongi said.

“How will she ever befriend us, if we’ve started out as enemies?” Seokjin asked.

“Maybe management will come through and say something,” Namjoon offered. They found little solace in this.

“She’s really cool,” Yoongi said.

“Taehyung and Jimin can’t stop talking about how funny she is, it’s hurting my ego,” Jin added.

“She’s good for Jungkook… I think he loves her,” Namjoon said. His head was clouded with alcohol and anger. He had raised Jungkook. After the months of reconciliation Namjoon and Jungkook had endured, this tactic was broaching a level of deceit and betrayal that he was positive they would ever recover from. They tried to tell Big Hit this, that they shouldn’t be put in this place, not after what had happened, but management had wanted them to try and make a connection, to make it seem like the proverbial man wasn’t guiding their every decision.

But it was the opposite, and you all knew it.

* * *

“Why should we trust you?” Yoongi asked.

“How do we know you won’t destroy Jungkook?” Jin inquired. “Use your texts and photos against him?”

Your mind racked through what you could say to dissuade their fears. You waited a minute too long.

“Those aren’t rhetorical questions,” Namjoon urged you. He recognized Jungkook would be coming back soon, and he was more embarrassed to be caught having this conversation than having to relay it to JK later. 

“I’m dating Jungkook because I care deeply for him,” Your eyes were pleading, “I don’t care about the money or the status or the fame. I care about him.”

“Say this continues, how will it look to have you on JK’s arm?” Yoongi asked.

“Stop circumventing your point. Say it, or move on,” Your ability to hide your emotions was waning and you spoke through pursed lips. It was taking everything in you not to storm out or break down in sobs. There was no way you would give them the satisfaction of seeing how many pieces they’d broken you into.

“You’re not Korean, you’re heavy, you’re mixed race, you don’t speak the language, you don’t fit.” Yoongi laid out each point like a nail in your crucifixion. Yoongi was repeating what management had written. They had these views, not him, could you tell from his eyes that he was trying to apologize?

“We’re saying that we don’t know how this is going to work,” Namjoon said.

“You’re saying that I’m some fat, old, American who is dating Jungkook for his money and fame,” You looked each of them in the eye. “You don’t even know me.”

“Well, from what we can see, your fetishizing of Jungkook is disgusting, and frankly, that and your age is enough to show us that he shouldn’t be dating you.” Yoongi said coolly.

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered. You couldn’t hold it in, the crack of your resolve had sprung a leak and the tears began to fall. You watched as they fell delicately on your sweater.

“Jungkook is honest, he is shy and kind. He wears his heart on his sleeve and breaks easily. He pushes himself too hard, and he’s always scared he’s not living up to his potential. He is the most honorable of us, and who are you to be wasting his honor?” Seokjin asked.

“We have to protect Jungkook,” Namjoon said, though he was positive no one believed him.

“There are a hundred ways you and management could’ve done this, ways that would’ve been kinder,” You looked up, each of them blurry as you blinked down your tears. You grasped onto the last shred of your dignity and stared each of them in the eyes. “You chose the most malicious, repulsive, heartbreaking way to –

“See if you’re a gold digger?” Yoongi asked. 

“Fuck you, Yoongi,” You said, standing up. “Jungkook always says that you are the sweetest guys. You are loving and take care of one another. You raised him. I know you fucked him over one too many times, and I know he is still hurt from the wounds you inflicted,” You stare pointedly at Namjoon, “But, I don’t know, maybe in controlling him, in raising him, you gave him all the love and decency you had, so that he could be the thoughtful, sensitive person he is. Or maybe you’re just blinded by pride and a false sense of security, but I’m not a fucking threat to you, and I’m not a fucking threat to Jungkook. If management has a problem with me, they can fucking call me.” You turned on your heels sharply and marched out of the room.

Jungkook stood at the door, eyes wide. Your shoulder brushed against his as you made your way down the hallway, trying to hold in your sobs until you were out of their sight.

“Kookie, wait,” Namjoon stood.

“What did you do?” He asked, looking at the three men. Anger was spewing from his lips. He’d never felt this level of hate and betrayal. “Why did you do that?”

“Management,” Jin said as he took the notes Big Hit had given them out of his pocket and pushed it against the table towards Jungkook. He stared, eyes glossing over the words.

“I can’t believe you did it,” He said to them. His eyes had gone dark. Namjoon was right, it would’ve been better to tell him after the fact than be caught failing to complete the hit. Jungkook turned sharply and began to run after you.


	3. Loves for Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You turned to him now, tears having dried, snot no longer pouring out of your nose. 
> 
> “If you were dating some K-Pop star, or just some woman you met randomly on the streets of Seoul, would they have done this to her?” Your voice was heavy and Jungkook glanced away, unwilling to meet your gaze.

Jungkook caught you in the hallway outside the dorms. You were unsure where to go, how to get away from BTS and were too overwhelmed by your hurt to figure it out. You collapsed on the floor, a security guard nearby wondered who you were and why you were crying. He was about to escort you out when Jungkook came barreling out and tumbled onto the floor. He wrapped you tightly in his arm, holding you as close to his chest as he could. You didn’t know how long you were crying before you spoke, but when you did it was a string of “They hate me!” mixed with “Why? What did I do?”

“They think I’m dating you because I’m a fat, too old gold digger, hoping to cash in on your billion-dollar enterprise! Like I can be fucking bought! Like I’m somehow, though they don’t know how, able to convince you to love me!” You said, finally pulling away to stare at him. His eyes were red. Sometime after he had caught up to you, his eyes began leaking tears. He’d never seen you cry; he’d never seen you so upset. In the six months you’d been together, you’d never experienced this level of pain. In some ways he had hoped you never would.

“No, they-

“They do! You heard them! They questioned if I was good enough for you.” You said.

“Don’t listen to-

“Couldn’t I find someone my own age? Couldn’t I find someone in my own country? Didn’t I realize the burden I was putting on you? The detriment I would be for your career growth?”

“No, they-

“They did. They ambushed me and then when you showed up, pretended it was an innocent conversation.”

“Noona,”

“They hate me, Jungkook… They’re acting like I’m Yoko, except I’m hell bent on seeing your demise!”

“No, they don’t hate you,” He said cupping your face in his hands. “Don’t cry.”

“They hate me, they want me gone.” You responded, sobs shaking your body, making it difficult for him to hold you.

“They’re trying to be protective,” Jungkook whispered.

“Then why did they tear me apart?” You responded.

“I’ll talk to them,” Jungkook said.

“And say what? What can you say that is going to make this better? They want to go to management and convince them that I,” The tears started to fall again, and you buried yourself in Jungkook.

“It wasn’t them, it was management,” Jungkook said.

“What?” You asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Management gave them a list of horrible questions to ask you. I saw it, Jin had it in his pocket.” Jungkook told you.

“But they love you, why did they go through with it? After all they’ve put you through,” You asked staring into his doe eyes.

“Management controls our lives, we have to do what they want, they were doing what they were told.” Jungkook reasoned.

“Isn’t that how you ended up in-

“Yeah,” Jungkook looked down, the unspoken becoming deafening.

“Didn’t they see what they… don’t they love you more?” You asked.

“Yes, but, what’s ours is theirs, and what’s theirs isn’t always ours,” Jungkook said.

“How do you keep putting up with this?” Your eyes were still searching for anything to cling to.

“I signed my life away,” Jungkook whispered.

“You were a child,” You whispered.

“I know,” Jungkook nodded.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, your mind racking over the conversations you had had, the late nights your first few weeks together, sharing every detail of your lives and how he came to be in LA for an extended period of time. The moments you felt like, _this could be something_ , the way he spoke about his fame, about his career … the sadness that he sang radiated through you, imprinting on your heart, a soft understanding that his life wasn’t his own. You had wondered what it was like to be as famous as Jungkook. When you’d commented, he responded calmly, “The rain always comes.”

You turned to him now, tears having dried, snot no longer pouring out of your nose.

“If you were dating some K-Pop star, or just some woman you met randomly on the streets of Seoul, would they have done this to her?” Your voice was heavy and Jungkook glanced away, unwilling to meet your gaze.

On the one hand, there would be less of an image issue, on the other, there would have to be a level of secrecy that you and Jungkook didn’t have to follow. You were harder to pin down, harder to recognize, harder to find information on… When he was stateside with you, you could exist in your bubble. A hat and sunglasses hid him from everyone. You could go grocery shopping or to the movies or out to dinner without prying eyes. But that wouldn’t always be the case. What if you did become leverage? A phone hacked, emails discovered, voice messages saved… Disenchanted by fame and its bulldozer effect on your relationship, what if Jungkook left the spotlight to be with you? What if ARMY morphed into the darkness and not the light?

Jungkook didn’t know what to do. Telling you that anyone he dated, anyone who he fell in love with, was going to be subjected to this kind of questioning would make you feel slightly better. But it offered no comfort to him. He knew the negotiations around your relationship, the tradeoffs he had to make… Was this ambush an item he hadn’t read between the lines? Why hadn’t they warned him?

“Jungkook?” You asked, sitting up.

“Hmmm?” He blinked, mind pulling back to you. You gently reached a hand to his cheek, wiping away a few of his tears with your thumb.

“Where’d you go?” You whispered. He took your hand in his, kissing the back of it before repeating the loving gesture, with both of his hands, leaning in to join your lips. His callused thumbs rubbed your cheeks tenderly.

It was gentle, apologies and longing tied together with the movement of his lips on yours. Pulling back slowly, Jungkook searched your eyes.

“I love you,” He said.

“What?” You asked.

“I love you,” Jungkook repeated. “I’m in love with you, I love you.”

Your eyes filled with tears again, surprising Jungkook.

“Jagi, don’t cry,” He said again, bringing his lips to yours once more.

“No, Kook,” You pulled away, wrapping your hands around his wrists and bringing your forehead to rest against his. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’ve been feeling it for a while, I didn’t know how to tell you,” He said, voice soft.

“I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t hoping you’d say it,” The first crinkle of a smile danced across your lips.

“Yeah?” He asked, his forehead leaving yours to look into your eyes again.

“I’d be absolutely and completely lying if I said that I haven’t been wishing for this moment for months.” Your cheeks were painted crimson as you shed another layer of vulnerability.

“Months?” He couldn’t hide his smile, its warmth filled you, encouraged you to keep confessing.

“Mmhm,” You nodded, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, gnawing at it. “Every time we spoke, or you left LA to come back here or to do press, I thought maybe you’d say it…”

“You’ve been waiting what, three months?” He giggled, the smile you’d been trying to dissuade finally making its way to your lips.

“At first, I thought I was being ridiculous, we hadn’t been together that long, I guess we still haven’t, but your eyes … The way you look at me… I just, I hoped you were feeling what I was.”

“Are you feeling what I’m feeling?” He asked, a hint of worry in his eyes, smile dropping.

“Yes,” You were beaming.

“Yes?” He asked, smile back.

“Yes, Jungkook. I love you, too,” You said. He clapped his hands together before standing up and pulling you against him, his lips hungrily finding yours.

The guard at the end of the hallway, who had watched you fall apart, looked away as Jungkook’s left hand reached over your ass to squeeze it, eliciting a small moan from you. He cleared his throat as he turned away, an attempt to remind you of his presence.

You heard the noise and turned your heard, which Jungkook took as a signal to move his lips to your neck, where he proceeded to nip and suckle on the exposed skin.

“Babe,” You said, an urgency arising in your tone, “Kook, we need to go somewhere more private.”

He lifted his lips from your collarbone and met your gaze. He understood immediately and grabbed your hand. You giggled as you practically ran down the hallway to the dorm. Jungkook flung the door open and guided you to his room.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon said, trying to catch either of you before you disappeared into the maknae’s room. “Can we talk?”

“Later,” Jungkook waved him off as he pushed you into his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind you. You stopped, your smile fading, eyes locking with his. Your bottom lip instinctively found its way between your teeth and you stared at him.

“I love you,” You said.

“I love you, too,” Jungkook didn’t miss a beat. How had he never experienced this kind of love before? It was intoxicating, thrilling, overwhelming.

You stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other. He took a few steps towards you, tentatively resting his hands on your hips, his fingers grazing the skin beneath your tear and snot stained blouse. Your body was soft and warm, inviting him in. Jungkook ducked his head to place a chaste kiss on your lips, testing the water before knitting your lips together again.

His lips were soft, comforting, enticing. They moved with grace, pressure mimicking his hold on your hips. Jungkook knew how to kiss you. He was measured in the movements of his tongue, deft with his ability to suck and nibble on your lips, finding new ways to make your toes curl every time your lips came together. Jungkook also knew how to pour whatever emotions he was feeling into his movements. The sixth months you’d spent together had taught both of you how to make the most of the time you had together. Your shared days were limited, his availability often nonexistent, making it damn near impossible for you to be in the same place at the same time. As he kissed you, you could feel the love radiating off him, engulfing you in a bubble of lust and affection. His hold on you, strong and secure, ensured that the bubble wasn’t going to burst but enrapture you, swallowed in love.

Your hands reached around his neck, the shaggy hair at his nape becoming your own personal litmus test. You twisted and pulled, bringing him as close to you as possible. For each of Jungkook’s measured movements, yours were frantic and hurried. You longed to savor ever second of contact, every movement, every sensation, but in the moment, you wanted all of him and all of him **_now_**.

Jungkook’s hands slowly moved from your hips to your ass, kneading it tenderly. He used his new hold on you to pull you to him, his sex grinding against you. You moaned from the touch, his arousal causing yours to kick into high gear. You slipped your hands under his shirt, slowly feeling your way up his toned abs, across his pecks, pausing to flick your fingers over his nipples, caressing them. Jungkook moaned loudly, the sensation draining blood from his brain to his dick, causing him to grind into you again. You moved your hands back down, swiping them deftly against his hardening member. He took the hint and slipped his shirt off and unzipped his jeans before pushing you onto the bed. You drank in his form. It’d been too long since you’d seen him like this, body exposed, vulnerability in his eyes, love pouring out of him.

He climbed over you, breathing heavy before resting on your upper thighs. He lifted your shirt over your head before reaching back and unclasping your bra. He moaned, head rolling back before he looked back at you. He kissed you deeply, his body laying flush on top of yours. Your hips bucked to meet his, grinding your heat against him. Your desire was building, the heat from his body going straight to your cunt, the ache beginning to overwhelm your senses.

“Jungkook,” You moaned.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” He said, eyes locked with yours. He propped himself on one hand, his free one going to twist and pinch your nipple.

“Eat me,” You whispered between moans.

“As you wish,” He replied scattering open mouth kisses down your neck.

He stopped at your breasts, kneading one in his left hand, suckling your other nipple in his mouth. He loved your breasts, the way they fell when unsupported, how softly they felt when he rested his head on them, the way they looked in your low-cut tops, all drove him crazy. He loved them dripping wet from the shower, the water slowly sliding down the curves and dripping from your nipples like honey from the hive. He loved the size of your nipples, perfect between his fingers, even more perfect between his lips. He loved the sounds you made when he sucked on them, teeth streaking against the skin of your breast before encircling the bud.

Jungkook knew how to play you, every button he pushed was calculated, exacting the most amount of pleasure out of you. Your nipples were your weak spot. He had learned that by alternating between his mouth and fingers, he could turn you into a writhing mess, and on the rare occasion, cause you to orgasm without ever touching your cunt.

That night, he abandoned your breasts as he kissed down your stomach. The first time you’d slept together, you had tried to stop him. Your stomach, your thighs, the jiggle of your arms, were all things you wanted to keep from him for as long as possible. Clothed was one thing, you could wear black or patterns to illude a stranger into thinking you were smaller than you were. You had wanted to have sex in the dark, convinced that Jungkook, the Idol, would be repulsed by your rolls and stretchmarks. You had been racking your brain for why he wanted to keep seeing you and were unsure you would ever feel ready to sleep with him. That night, he had kept the light on and traced every stretch mark with his tongue, sucking and kissing them. Jungkook registered your insecurities, he’d felt them to, the need to look a certain way to feel wanted. Of negotiating with himself if he was working out because he wanted to, or to fit some ideal, to compensate for areas he lacked. In your insecurities, he saw himself. He wanted you. All of you. And you wanted him.

Jungkook wasted no time spreading your legs, opening them to view your cunt fully. He moaned at the sight, and bit his lower lip, deciding how he was going to have you.

“Sit on my face,” He said, eyes moving slowly up your body.

“What?” You asked.

“Sit. On. My. Face.”

“Okay,” You said hesitantly.

“If you don’t like it, we’ll stop okay?” He said moving up the bed. He moved the pillows out of the way and laid down.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” You said, moving your thighs to either side of his head. He guided your hips down, until your seam was perfectly aligned with his mouth. Blowing slowly on your lips, his hands gripped your thighs, holding you to him. You wiggled your hips, the sensation of his cool breath causing goosebumps across your skin. Jungkook slid his tongue up and down your lips, mixing your juices with his saliva before slowly drawing circles around your clit. A soft moan escaped your lips as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten. The more you moaned, the more he moaned in return, vibrations moving through your bud to every nerve ending. You continued to vocalize, his name spilling off your tongue as you began to move your hips in time with his tongue’s movements.

Swirling, sucking, spiraling out and in, coupled with the vibrations of Jungkook’s own arousal, was sending you over the edge. The heat began to spread as the coil snapped. Jungkook had asked you what your orgasm felt like, and you’d described it as the butterflies on a first date erupting like glitter cannon, as the glitter falls, it sparkles, catches the light, surges through every part of your body. It leaves you hot and overwhelmed, the pleasure almost unbearable.

As your orgasm cascaded over you, Jungkook flipped you over before quickly wiggling out of his boxers. He gave himself two quick strokes before angling himself at your entrance. He used his precum and the juices of your arousal to coat his length before slowly guiding the tip of his cock into you. Still coming down from your orgasm, your cunt overly sensitive, you barked his name at the sensation, soon to be replaced by a moan escaping your lips. Jungkook growled before leaning over you, his chest becoming flush with yours. He lowered his mouth onto yours, and as his hips began to move, he began to moan into your kiss.

Your hands scratched up and down his back, nails sharp against his sensitive skin. His movements were languid, hips pulling him back slowly before snapping into you, his chest never leaving yours, his eyes staring in wonder at you. You lifted your legs, locking them at the small of his back, the added pressure pushing him further into you.

“Jungkook,” You moaned over and over again, no thought able to gain traction as he continued his sensual movements.

“Y/N, look at me,” He whispered, hips picking up a little speed. You snapped your eyes open and they tried focus on him. He was always overwhelming, at this angle, it was purely heavenly how good he looked. “This, right here,” He said, finding his voice a little stronger.

“Yeah?” You breathed. He took the breath from you, mouth hanging open.

“This is love, this is me, loving you, every, fuck,” He groaned as your walls tightened around him. “Every part of you.”

“Jungkook,” You said, walls tightening as the coil rewound itself. “Shut up and make love to me.”

He kissed you harshly, teeth clanging, lips pulling at each other, fingernails digging into each other’s flesh. His slow movements disappeared as he met your cunt with sharp constrictions of his hips, and he began chasing his own orgasm. The sensation of being in you, condom free, was relatively new, and the idea that he could cum in you freely began to cloud his mind.

“I’m close,” He said, eyes opening to look at you.

“Fuck, cum in me,” You said, moaning through each snap of his hips.

“Yeah?” He asked, hips picking up the speed.

“All in me, **_now_** ,” You said as your second orgasm began to course through you. You instinctively tightened around him, your cunt straining to take every seed out of him. He called your name repeatedly, hips sporadically thrusting into you as he released his load. He was never used to the sensations of being with you. Absence made the heart grow fonder, and absence made your reunion sex that much sweeter. He grunted softly as he slowly entangled himself from you.

“Where did you learn to make love like that?” You whispered, chest heaving as you gulped in air.

“It’s easy when you’re making love to someone you, you know, love,” He said chuckling. You laughed before standing up and walking to the ensuite.

“The towels are in the cabinet,” Jungkook called. He grabbed the pillows from the floor and tossed them haphazardly on the bed before climbing back onto it, getting himself comfortable.

You walked back to him, quickly, still unsure of your naked form.

“You’re so sexy,” Jungkook said, eyes scanning.

“You’re so sexy,” You said crawling back into bed.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” He leaned down, a loving kiss finding its way onto your lips. You stayed there for a while, holding each other, listening to one another’s heartbeats return to normal, breath steadying.

“I can’t stay here,” You whispered. Your sticky skin clung to each other’s, your breath dancing across one another’s faces as you laid, eyes glued on one another.

“I know,” Jungkook responded. “I’ll come with.”

“I don’t want to see them again,” You said, eyes closing as you tried to block the memory from seeping in.

“Ever?”

“For now, in the near future. It’ll best for you and me if I just … distance myself from them.” You couldn’t meet his gaze.

“What about Tae, Jimin and Hobi?” Jungkook asked. His arm was draped lightly over your waist, hand moving gently up and down your spine.

“They’re my new best friends so, obvi I’ll keep talking to them,” You smiled.

Jungkook loved your smile, it wasn’t because it was always blinding, tugging you to him, but it brought out your double set of dimples and crinkled your eyes. He loved the feeling behind your smiles, the giddy joy, or hilarity that brought them out, the moments you spent laughing together.

“I’m glad that you made friends with them,” Jungkook said.

“Jungkook?” You asked, reaching a hand to delicately place on his cheek. “What will you do?”

“About?” He knew.

“Your hyungs,” You responded.

“I’ll have to talk to management, and then I’ll have to talk to them,” His eyes closed, the emotional toll of being at odds with the three eldest men would ravage him, yet again, making it impossible to live in the dorms. Jungkook, the consummate employee, would double his practice time, ensuring as little time with the older members as possible. He would fight with management, his disgust and humiliation radiating off the walls of the conference room. He wouldn’t yell, but he wouldn’t be civil.

At the end of it, two months later, Jungkook would find himself buying a ticket and showing up at your door, telling you he had taken two weeks off. He wanted to refocus, to find a way to heal from the constant, never ending pain of the betrayal, and time to find his way, yet again, to forgiveness. He had resolved he could never trust Namjoon again, but perhaps there was hope for Yoongi and Jin. The emotional burden would weight heavy, leading him to you.

* * *

“Jungkook?” You whispered, pulling him from his thoughts and back to you.

“Hmm?” He asked, eyes still glossed over, blown out from love and intimacy.

“Am I wasting your honor?” You asked.

“Noona,” He said, pulling you to his bare chest, your face turning to burrow into his neck. “Nothing they said was true. I know you’re not using me or manipulating me. I know you, I know your heart.”

“I really love you,” You said, pulling out of his embrace. “What if they’re-

“They’re not right, not at all,” He lowered his lips to yours, panic and fear radiating off of your lips, mixing and swirling, turning the love bubble you’d been in into one of uncertainty. Jungkook was desperate to comfort you, to take apart every harmful comment his brothers had made. He wanted to absolve them, but he couldn’t. All he could do was kiss you and promise to love you. You weren’t wasting his honor, but as you fell asleep in your hotel room, Jungkook holding you to him, he wondered if he was wasting yours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I hate writing smut but here we are)


	4. Your Brothers As My Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why don’t you have a seat?” You suggested, guiding them through the entryway and into the living room. The men took a seat, and soon you all sat staring at one another.

You swung the door open as far as its hinges would allow and screamed “You’re here!” before barreling down the path that led to your two-bedroom home, a small bungalow in West Hollywood. You’d rented it for years, the owners telling you that if they ever decided to sell, you’d be their first pick. You were honored, but a two bedroom wouldn’t fit your future plans.

As you jumped up and down, you watched Jimin, Taehyung and Ho-Seok climbed out of the chauffeured car. They ran to you, Tae being first to wrap his arms around you. They were beaming. In the year since your first visit to Korea, the four of you had become best friends, facetime calls, game nights, watch parties and heartfelt discussions had transpired. Your life had become consumed by them, and you were grateful. It was easier to miss Jungkook when the other men were constantly seeking you out. You loved them endlessly, and they you.

“We made it!” Ho-Seok yelled, pulling you from Tae to wrap his arms around you.

“Your house is so cute!” Jimin said, admiring the mid-century modern exterior.

“Come in, Jungkook’s making something, unsure what,” You said, guiding them into your home.

“Wow,” They chorused, taking in your entryway and living room.

“It’s so cozy!” Jimin declared.

“No wonder Kook never wants to leave,” Taehyung said.

“Oh my gosh, look at that picture!” Ho-Seok had spotted the one photo you displayed of you and Jungkook, taken on your first anniversary, six months ago.

“You guys are so cute,” Jimin said.

“Hi,” Jungkook called, coming out of the kitchen to hug his bandmates. He’d come to LA two weeks early to spend time with you and discuss what you wanted to do about the hyung line. You’d spent the last year avoiding the dorms in Korea and avoiding the three men who had shattered your heart. Jungkook had forgiven them and had gotten management on your side. They no longer wished you to break up but acknowledged that you were becoming an integral part of Jungkook’s life. If they wanted Jungkook to stay with BTS, they needed to respect your relationship and your boundaries. Big Hit did everything in their power to ensure your privacy and were slowly becoming more open to the idea of you being around long term.

“Do you want a tour?” You asked, staring at the three men. They nodded eagerly, excited to see your home in person. Numerous Facetime calls had given them glimpses but seeing where you lived in person was thrilling. They could see where Jungkook had carved space for himself, part of a drawer in the bathroom, a few items of clothing in the closet, a handful of books in Korean on your bookshelf. In the kitchen, they were pleasantly surprised to see your pantry stocked with Korean goodies. Your time with Jungkook had opened your palate, and in his absence, you often made recipes that you knew he loved, partially in an attempt to be closer to him, and partially to strengthen your skills to impress his mother. She liked you, but she wasn’t in love with the idea of her son being with a non-Asian, American. You hoped, both in secret and aloud, that making these recipes would win her approval. Your next trip to Korea, to really spend time with the Jeon clan, was at the end of the year… Maybe you’d be better by then.

“This whole place is amazing,” Jimin commented, taking a seat on the couch.

“Thank you, I love living here,” You smiled.

“So, you know they’re on their way, right?” Ho-Seok said, eyes concerned as he glanced between you and Jungkook.

“Yes,” You said.

* * *

In the past year, you were adamant that you wanted nothing to do with Yoongi, Jin and Namjoon. You didn’t respond to their texts or failed attempts at apologizing. When at their concerts in London, Dubai, and various places in the states, you didn’t speak to them and preferred to watch from a seat in the crowd and not backstage for fear that you would have to interact. Your short trip to Korea was for the purpose of meeting the Jeon family and seeing Jimin, Tae and Ho-Seok, who met you at the hotel for dinner and drinks your last night there. The three days you spent in Korea were at the Jeon house, Jungkook’s family surrounding you. Then, Jungkook whisked you to Beijing and Tokyo and bid you adieu.

After their fateful conversation a year prior, Jungkook had told the three eldest members that he would speak to them after you had flown home. Before then wasn’t an option, he hadn’t had time to process, he hadn’t the emotion to give. His only focus was you. Yoongi, Jin and Namjoon were hesitant to wait five days to speak with Jungkook but gave him the grace to spend those days with you.

Jungkook came home from taking you to the airport, tears cascading down his face. Jin had been in the kitchen, and caught his shoulders shaking as he walked through the room.

“Jungkook,” He said, turning the heat down on the stove and walking over to the maknae. “What happened?”

“She’s gone,” Jungkook responded, wiping his snot on the back of his shirt.

“For good?” Jin was immediately panicked.

“For, a while. I don’t know when I’ll be able to see her again,” Jungkook looked up at Jin, his eyes saucers. He knew Jungkook was falling in love, but he hadn’t expected him to be this heartbroken at your departure.

“It’ll be okay,” Jin said, reaching to pull Jungkook into a hug. Namjoon entered and noticed the embrace.

“JK, you alright?” He asked, moving towards the stove top to peak at what Jin was making.

“I’ll be fine,” He said, pulling away from Jin.

“When are you going to talk to us?” Namjoon wondered.

“Not today. I need to talk to management first,” Jungkook went to the fridge to grab a beer and started heading towards his bedroom.

“I’m making your favorite,” Jin called.

“I’m not hungry,” Jungkook said.

Jin and Namjoon glanced at each other, they knew he was lying. They knew he’d be lying to them until he had sorted out his emotions. Pushing off their conversation was a stalling tactic, and the older men hated to wait to apologize. But it gave Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi more time to sort their own feelings and try to build trust with Jungkook again.

As the six members sat to dinner, Jungkook’s absence noticeable, Yoongi took a plate to his door and knocked gently.

“Kookie, you don’t have to talk to me, but here’s dinner. You need to eat, and drink water. Losing all those tears will dehydrate you,” Yoongi placed the plate and bottle of water outside his door and went back to the dining room.

“Why is he so upset?” Jimin asked.

“We uh, we had a chat and it didn’t go well,” Namjoon, ever the politician, responded.

“You made her cry,” Taehyung said.

“No,” Ho-Seok looked from Jin to Namjoon, “You did?”

“Management asked us to speak to her and, it didn’t go well,” Jin told them.

“Of course not! You don’t even know her! You broke her heart!” Taehyung was angry. Both you and Jungkook had texted him, telling him parts of what had happened. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe management had been so blatantly cruel, or that his hyungs, his brothers, had done it. Not to Jungkook, not to you, his new best friend. He hadn’t had the words to tell Ho-Seok or Jimin, and he realized it wasn’t his place. Jungkook needed to tell them. And as you had reached out to Taehyung, asking him to keep an eye on your love, he knew they were in for their biggest fight to date.

“Taehyung, this isn’t a group conversation,” Yoongi snapped.

“It is! We talk when we’re upset with each other, we work it out,” Jimin countered.

“Jungkook isn’t speaking to us,” Yoongi said, resuming his place between Jimin and Ho-Seok.

“He isn’t?” Ho-Seok asked, trying to piece the puzzle together.

“No, and I don’t know when he will,” Namjoon said.

“You really fucked up, didn’t you?” Taehyung snapped.

“How will we fix this?” Ho-Seok asked.

“I don’t know,” Jin said.

“You’re his hyung, can’t you make him talk?” Jimin asked.

“No,” Jin said, “My charms are no help, we betrayed him.”

They’d left it like that. The maknae line only understood the depths of the betrayal when they’d gone to practice and seen Jungkook ice them out. He didn’t look at them, he didn’t speak to them. To Taehyung, Jimin and Ho-Seok, Jungkook was his usual self, laughing, bantering through their practice, like nothing had happened.

After speaking with management, Jungkook had called a house meeting. The seven men sat around their living room, sun setting, and stared at one another.

“So, we’re here to talk about what happened between myself, Jin and Yoongi, and Jungkook’s girlfriend, Y/N.” Namjoon started.

“How did it happen?” Jungkook asked.

“Management scheduled a few meetings with us and told us we needed to speak to you about your relationship,” Yoongi said.

“Why did you do it?” Jimin asked.

“We tried to get out of it, we tried to put it back on them… They insisted we do it,” Jin answered.

“You were so cruel,” Jungkook looked from Namjoon to Yoongi, eyes boring into him. “You were trying to hurt her. She was right. There were a hundred nicer ways you could’ve spoken to her and you chose to be vicious.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said. “I, I was the worst, I was shooting to kill. I figured it would be easier to rip off the band aid than to dance around it.”

“The things you said, Yoongi,” Jungkook shook his head. Hearing the words second hand from you was far worse than hearing them from Yoongi. How could you repeat the horrors that he’d said?

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,”

“Management gave us that list… We tried, Jungkook, we tried to stop it, we tried to take all the items off the list, we tried to put an end to it,” Namjoon’s eyes were pleading.

“They didn’t care, they wanted answers, and they thought we could find out.” Jin added.

“I’ve had words with management. What I can’t wrap my head around is how you thought you could speak to her like that, and then come to me like nothing happened. Or how you thought that speaking to her, in such deplorable ways would ever benefit our relationship, as brothers or members. I have been working so fucking hard to trust you, and now,” Jungkook looked to Namjoon, anger seething from his lips. He dared Joon to answer.

Instead, the men sat in silence, not having a solution.

“I do not know if I will ever trust you,” Jungkook said standing. “You need to apologize to Y/N. She’s not coming back, not here, not for a long time. She will not speak to the three of you or have any contact with you from here forward. You destroyed her on such a deep level, and I don’t know if she’ll forgive you.”

“You guys fucked up,” Taehyung said, “She’s the fucking coolest person.”

“Did she send you that playlist before she took off?” Jimin asked, looking at Ho-Seok and Taehyung.

“Oh yeah, I’ll send it to you,” Taehyung reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone.

“So, we’re done?” Seokjin asked, trying to hide the tears in his eyes.

“I don’t have anything else to say,” Jungkook responded.

“You two still haven’t apologized,” Ho-Seok pointed out.

“I want to speak to Jungkook in private,” Namjoon said, glancing at the maknae. He nodded and guided him to his room. 

Namjoon looked around, it hadn’t changed in the week since he’d last been in there. Except there was a new piece of art on the wall, a small embroidered hoop with the front of a restaurant, hanging on his wall. Namjoon guessed it was the restaurant where you two had met.

“What?” Jungkook stood, his posture strong in an attempt to level the playing field.

“I’m so sorry,” Namjoon broke down, tears streaming down his face. “I know I fucked up, I know that I hurt you and Y/N. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

Jungkook wasn’t a cold man. He was a little petty but in the year since treatment, he was rarely spiteful. He was angry, disgusted, horrified, but he understood the precarious position management had put Yoongi, Namjoon and Seokjin in. He was sorry they had to do it, and sorry it had caused a rift between you and his hyungs. He was primarily sorry that your already tainted relationship with them was nearing the point of never recovering.

Jungkook didn’t buckle, he didn’t pull his hyung to him or held him as he cried.

“I don’t forgive you, Joon.” Jungkook said before leaving Namjoon a weeping mess in his room.

Seokjin and Jungkook shared a similar conversation, and in their usual fashion, it was over noodles. Jin apologized for his role, saying that he was pressured into doing it, and sorry that Jungkook had to be the first of them to go through this, that it wasn’t fair Namjoon’s significant other didn’t have to undergo this, him being older and the leader. He had operated under stricter measures, but not being the Golden Maknae gave Namjoon a leg up. Regardless, it wasn’t fair, Seokjin was the eldest, it should’ve been him.

Though Jungkook accepted Yoongi and Seokjin’s apologies, he remained distant, and the three hyungs had to respect his decision. They’d betrayed him again and they’d insulted you. They would give Jungkook all the time he needed to regain any amount of trust in them.

* * *

“What are you going to say to them?” Jimin asked.

“Well, you’ll be here too so you’ll hear it,” You responded, shrugging.

You heard a car door close and looked out the window to see Namjoon leading the charge.

Jungkook turned to you, cupping your cheek and placing a delicate kiss to your forehead. The other men cooed, loving how tender their golden maknae was with you.

“It’s going to be okay,” He said, holding you close.

“I hope so,” You stood as you heard a knock on the door. Taehyung and Jimin raced to it, opening it and loudly yelling, “Welcome to our crib!”

You laughed as the three men walked into your home, careful to slip their shoes off.

“Welcome,” You said, staring the three men down.

“Thank you for having us,” Jin responded. He was excited to speak to you, and to see Jungkook. The times he’d been able to watch his brother with you had been brief, which was hurtful to Jin, but protected you. He’d seen the glimmer in Jungkook’s eye, the blush that was present on his cheeks, the smile that never seemed to fade when you were on his mind. Jin wanted to know what that kind of love felt like, he wanted to watch the man he’d raised shine as a partner. He was tired of being iced out.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” You suggested, guiding them through the entryway and into the living room. The men took a seat, and soon you all sat staring at one another.

“Do you want to start?” Jungkook sat with a hand resting on your thigh, slowly moving up and down, trying to give you comfort.

“Sure,” You looked at him, his gaze giving you a sense of calm as you took a deep breath. “So, Jungkook says that when there’s a problem in BTS, the seven of you sit down and talk it out. That’s what I would like to do today,” You took another breath, deciding you were going to be stoic, honorable, not weak or timid. You would have courage in your convictions, nerves be damned.

“When Yoongi, Seokjin and Namjoon sat me down, I had hoped it would be to bond or set up a time to hang out, the four of us. I hoped you’d heard I like rap music or was interested in some of the things you were… I hoped it was to create a semblance of friendship with the three men Jungkook regards so highly. I was already becoming friends with Tae, Hobi and Jimin. I thought maybe you wanted to be friends too, which was contrary to your behavior, and honestly, contrary to the fear I had about engaging with you three,” Your voice cracked, remembering the way they’d iced you out, the ways they’d broken Jungkook. “The moment I arrived, you didn’t speak to me, you didn’t try to get to know me, you were cool, barely cordial… I didn’t know why you disliked me. I didn’t know what I had done or said to make you so…” You shook your head, the tears starting to form. “Then you sat me down and you said those things, those awful, disgusting things, and I never once used what you did to him against you, I never once raised my voice, or spoke of how he was when I met him… all because of you. Instead, I realized that even though Jungkook loved you, you were never going to accept me. Nothing I did was going to help you see me differently, except staying by Jungkook’s side and proving that what I said was true.

“So that’s what I did, and I had to grapple with the knowledge that even if you did it because of management, and even if it was their words, you still _chose_ to hurt me. For the past year, I’ve been working through what happened, I’ve been trying to understand the precarious situation you were put in, and how Jungkook and I were going to move forward. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve cried, the number of events I haven’t gone to, to support Jungkook, because I would have to interact with the three of you. I can’t tell you the number of texts and calls I’ve received from the maknae, trying to help me reach a place where I can forgive you for what you did to me. I don’t know if what I’ve done this year was the best, I know it hurt you, it hurt Jungkook, but it protected me. It’s taken me a long fucking time to get to this point, with a lot of really bitchy interactions with management, like a lot,” You laughed, Jungkook let out a relieved chuckle. “All this to say that, I accept your apologies, and that I do want to be your friend in some capacity, and I do want to trust you… I don’t know if I can, with everything that’s happened, but I want to try.”

You looked at Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon, and watched the relief wash over their faces. They’d been starving, and you were offering mana from the heavens.

“Y/N, we are so sorry, we behaved horribly, we disrespected you and Jungkook. We belittled your relationship, and we lost out on almost two years of friendship with you,” Yoongi said.

“She’s the fucking best!” Taehyung interjected. “Sorry, but it’s true,”

“Did you hear the new Kim Petras track?” You asked, turning to look at Ho-Seok.

“I’m already obsessed,” Jimin added.

“I’m thinking we need to choreograph something because, obvi,” You said, excitement brimming.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi said, pulling your attention back to him, “I was cruel, and I said things to wound you. They were nasty, unthinkable things… I am sorry.”

“I forgive you Yoongi,” You held his stare.

“You know, I’ve always wanted a little sister,” Seokjin said.

“Is that an apology?” You asked.

“I’m sorry,” Jin said bowing.

“I forgive you,” You placed a hand on his knee, a soft smile on your lips.

“I am eternally sorry, for all the pain we, I, caused,” Namjoon said. You could tell he was near tears.

“I forgive you too, Joon,” You said.

“All is forgiven,” Jungkook said, squeezing your thigh.

“On one condition,” You said.

“Oh no,” Taehyung said.

“After your show tomorrow, I know you don’t have plans the next day, we play drinking games and get absolutely obliterated,” You said laughing.

“Fuck yes!” Ho-Seok called.

“Alcohol brings people together,” Jimin added.

“And dancing!” Taehyung suggested.

“Alright, lets rage!” Namjoon said laughing.

You stood, relieved that after a year, you were finally able to feel like a full part of BTS. You hugged each of them, lingering with Yoongi.

“He’s going to marry you someday,” Yoongi whispered in your ear. You pulled away, staring at him. “But he wants us to be on good terms… He wants his family to be whole. We’ll be making it up to you for, _ever_.”

“You’re his chosen family,” You said, hugging Namjoon who had overheard what Yoongi said.

“If we’re his chosen family, you’re ours too,” Namjoon held you close. You pulled away, eyes narrow as you looked at him, the uncomfortableness of the situation lingering.

Relief swept the palpable awkwardness away as you spent the evening learning about the three men, and they you. You gave them the full tour, and they too giggled at the pieces of Jungkook strung throughout the house. They knew he wanted his forever to be intertwined with yours, and as you sat around a table at the restaurant you and Jungkook had met at, the six members of BTS were elated that you finally saw Jungkook’s brothers as your own.


	5. In Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You didn’t think, Gook. I’ve already started popping up in articles and on Twitter. Strangers are tagging me in things. Now you’ve sealed my fate. They are the hunters, Jungkook. There’s nothing you or Management can do to stop it. They’ve got me. Game. Over.”

The fight had escalated in a matter of minutes. A set of knuckles had collided, blood was spilled, security had rushed you out the back door and into the waiting van. As they tended to JK, you sat staring, fire stoking with every rotation of tires. He tried to speak to you, to ask if you were okay, to see if you were in shock or hurt in anyway. His free hand rested on your knee, drawing slow circles in an attempt to slowly exercise the adrenaline out of him.

As you arrived back at their Los Angeles Airbnb, security gave Jungkook direct orders to put it in a bowl of cold water with plenty of ice cubes. They needed the swelling to be minimal so they could further assess the damage his punch had created.

You shuffled in after him, absentmindedly finding your way to a stool in the kitchen. Your eyes were glossed over, the smoke in your body causing tears to form.

The other members rushed in, huddling around you both, asking what had happened. Jungkook related the story in rushed Korean, and from what you could make out, it sounded more exaggerated than it was.

Here’s what you knew to be true:

  * JK had gone to the bathroom to fix his hair
  * In his absence, another man had flirted with you
  * You’d rejected him kindly, saying you were waiting for your boyfriend to return
  * In typical fashion, he was persistent, saying some misogynistic line about leaving a girl like you alone at the bar
  * You laughed, bruising his ego
  * You turned to walk away when he tried to grab your wrist
  * JK must’ve caught this part of interaction
  * Through rage filled eyes he watched as another man made a pass on you
  * Jungkook could see your disgust and irritation
  * He could see the unwillingness the other man had to let you go
  * Jungkook had approached swiftly, telling the man to back off
  * The man had looked from Jungkook to you, a look of recognition passing over his face
  * The man laughed, then spit on the floor
  * There was name calling, and he looked back at you
  * He barked that he would never fuck a bitch with yellow fever
  * Jungkook punched him, knocking him on the ground instantly
  * You dropped your glass, shattering on impact
  * BTS security was on you in a matter of seconds, whisking you to the car



Taehyung and Ho-Seok were on you instantly, they wrapped arms around you, holding you close, whispering comforting phrases into your hair. You didn’t hear any of it, you didn’t feel any of it. All you saw was the smattering of flashing lights.

Jimin grabbed you a glass of water and turned you away from Taehyung and Ho-Seok. Squaring his shoulders with yours, he looked you in the eyes.

“Babe, say something,” Jimin whispered. You hadn’t noticed him in front of you, your gaze lost as you recounted the events of the evening. As you blinked you realized you were eye to eye with Jimin, and you gasped.

“Fuck! I didn’t realize you were so close,” You said.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Namjoon asked, moving to stand next to Jimin. Taehyung was still at your side, arm draped over your shoulder, holding you close to him.

You looked at him, expression blank. It was confirmation enough for Namjoon, and he informed the other members that they needed to give you and Jungkook a minute alone.

“Noona, are you okay? You haven’t said anything,” JK moved the bowl towards you, coming to sit on the stool next to you. His left hand reached for yours. You pulled it back, blinking the tears down your cheeks.

“I’m not fucking okay,” you whispered.

Jungkook hadn’t seen this wrath in you before. He didn’t recognize the shift in your tone. He couldn’t distinguish the look that swept across your face. He thought he knew every expression, every mood you had. He thought he’d seen every iteration of you, every hurt that he could imagine you experiencing. But as he stared at you, eyes searching for any sort of familiarity, he realized there was a side to you he’d never seen: blind rage.

“I know, it’s bad, it was a bad situation that-

“That you made worse.” You stood up, shoving the stool under the counter. It clattered against the cabinets below, the force you’d exerted unnecessary.

“What?” Jungkook’s doe eyes swelled, _made it worse_?

“You punched him,” You snapped.

“He was going to attack you!” He countered.

“I was walking away.” You placed your hands on the counter, fingers wrapping around the edges.

“He didn’t care!” Jungkook stood too, trying to find the higher ground.

“There were enough people around. The bodyguards were coming. You reacted recklessly!” You snapped, voice rising.

“Did you hear what he said to me? What he called me? What he said about you?! I was trying to -

“Were you? We’re you trying to protect me, or trying to defend yourself?” You yelled.

“Yes! I was trying to defend-

“Do you understand what you’ve done Jungkook?” Your voice broke, the yelling and tears taking its toll.

“What? I protected-

“You made a fucking scene. You irresponsibly, recklessly, made a scene and now you have put me and our relationship in jeopardy.” Your eyes were wild, your throat ached, venom dripped from your words, the threat of poison seeping into Jungkook’s eyes.

“I was taking you away from danger!” He knocked the bowl of water into the sink. The glass against the metal of the sink clanged, alerting everyone in the house to how far your fight had escalated.

“Everyone saw. Did you notice the phones out? The paparazzi waiting with bated breath outside the club? Did you see how they ogled me, the second we walked in? Did you fucking notice any of it?”

“I- “

“They all got it. I guarantee it’s already posted. K-pop idol Jeon Jungkook TKO. Defending some woman’s honor! It’s fucking everywhere,” Your voice was small, every syllable punctuated like the tattoo needles that adorned yours and your lovers’ skin.

“I was trying to protect you! He was a monster!” Jungkook yelled, wincing as the sound reverberated in the foreign kitchen.

“Monster or not, you kissed my cheek and sent me to the slaughter!” You blinked the tears down your cheeks, their warmth mixing with the heat that had arisen on your cheeks.

Jungkook didn’t often understand your religious imagery, and often turned to RM to relay a story or parable that you’d mentioned. This one he got. He was _Judas_. Giving up the savior to the zealots and Pharisees. He looked at you, you, his brilliant, compassionate, feisty girlfriend. You held his future in your hands, and as he stared at you, he recognized what was guiding your fight. It wasn’t anger or rage, it was _fear_.

“You put a fucking target on my back.” Your sob crashed through you, bringing your hands to your mouth as you tried to muffle the sound.

“I didn’t,” His tone softened.

“You didn’t think, Kook. I’ve already started popping up in articles and on Twitter. Strangers are tagging me in things. Now you’ve sealed my fate. They are the hunters, Jungkook. There’s nothing you or Management can do to stop it. They’ve got me. Game. _Over_.” You tried to steady your breathing, your cries coming out more as whimpers than the devastating sobs you’d let course through you.

“It’s not game over! We will protect you; I will protect you!” He said, indignantly.

“Why don’t you understand? They will _kill_ me!” You yelled in return. Why was he so stubborn, so clueless?

“No, they won’t. No, they won’t.” Jungkook shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the dark places your words were taking him to.

“What can you do to stop it?” You asked, daring him to answer.

“I’ll take the bullet for you!” His voice was exasperated.

“Please, punching that guy was you cocking the gun.”

It hangs in the air, an unrecognizable cloud of disdain and hurt. You were beginning to choke on it.

“I would die for you,” he pleads, hand reaching out to try and grab yours again.

“In secret,” you mumbled pulling it away.

“What?” He asked, the anger returning to his voice.

“That’s the catch with you, Jungkook. you’d die for me, in secret. You’ll hold my hand, in secret, tell me you love me, in secret. Go out with me as a friend. Never take photos in case your phone is hacked. Why, in two years, do I only have one printed photo of us? You’ll take a bullet for me? Sure. But you’ll bleed in secret.”

“I, I’m trying to protect you.”

“Look where that’s gotten us.”

“What?”

“You can’t save me from this. I am the fucking storm, Jungkook.”

“No, you’re not,” Jungkook was trying to find something to hang on to, some way to make his way back to you, but he was coming up empty.

“It lives in me, and it always will. This wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there. If we weren’t together. Don’t you get it? This is the beginning; your life will never be peaceful. Ever. I can’t give that to you.” You laid out the points, why couldn’t he understand?

“My life hasn’t been peaceful in seven year,” Jungkook spoke with bitterness.

“I’m making it worse,” You responded.

“It’s not you! It’s ARMY! It’s fans! It’s everyone fucking else!” Jungkook hated to swear when he spoke to you, he hated becoming unraveled, unhinged as he stared at you.

“They’re screaming at us not to be together. They will do whatever they can to ensure you and I don’t make it.”

“Fuck them,” Jungkook said.

“Why?” You asked, exasperated.

“What do you mean why?” He snapped.

“Why protect me? Why care at all Jungkook, why screw over your fans for me?”

“I love you,” His heart was breaking, you could see it in his eyes. The love he had for you tried to tether you to each other, but it wasn’t the lifeline, it was the anchor.

“All I do is sit and talk shit; I’m fucking wasting your honor. Jeon Jungkook, stoic, in touch with his emotions, loving, caring, always looking out for others. Perfectionist in his craft. Working himself to the bone day after day. Jungkook, the empath. The Golden Maknae. The most adored and admired. Wasting two years with me so what, the minute another guy tries something you punch him and it’s all over the news? So, I can be harassed and sought out? So BTS will be in jeopardy of _ever_ being able to have a spouse or partner? Offering us, our love, up for slaughter because what, it’s for show? All so you can, fucking love me in secret?”

Jungkook was knocked back by your words. The two years of your relationship, of your insecurities, of his, came tumbling out of you, shattering like your glass as they crashed around him. Hadn’t you worked through this? Hadn’t you made strides in your relationship? Weren’t his brothers yours, your lives dedicated to one another’s? Hadn’t you vowed to love each other through the cascading blue waves of stress, anxiety and depression that came with a long distance, Idol relationship?

“I am doing what is right,” Jungkook was gritting just teeth. The tension causing a headache to build.

“Sometimes what’s good for people isn’t what’s right.” You said turning your back to him.

“Where are you going? We need to talk-

“I don’t want to talk to you, Jungkook.” You said, your voice weary.

“We have to figure this-

“No, we don’t. You know why?” You questioned, turning to stare him down.

He already knew why.

“Because tomorrow we’ll be awoken with Management and it’ll be time to reassess our relationship, and the terms to which I have agreed to.”

“The devils in the details,” He muttered.

“Their verdict will be final. And the two years we’ve spent will go down the fucking drain as Big Hit decides to do everything in their power to keep us apart and to inhibit the rest of their K-Pop super team from ever falling in love.” The truth hurt; it was written across both of your faces as you stood staring. The damage of your fight echoed across the hall and into the kitchen.

“We’ve fought this fight, they won’t-

“You don’t know that, Jungkook. You don’t know that they aren’t meeting right now, pulling out papers and lists from years ago, weighing the options.”

“Can’t we just, try to-

“I don’t want to talk to you. I’m fucking exhausted. I’m devastated. And I can’t fucking look at you for another minute or I’ll never be able to recover.” The tears were pouring again, and you tried to stifle them until you were at least in a car home.

“Please just, tell me where you’re going, please, Noona.” He pleaded.

“I’m going home. Don’t call me.”

You grabbed your bag from the counter and walked towards the door, BTS bodyguards close behind you. They’d take you home and if Gook was worried enough, they’d stay the night, perched in their car, eyes trained on your front door.

You didn’t want to talk anymore. You wanted to shower and cry and sleep alone in your bed. There was nothing else to be said to Jungkook, nothing else to be done. Management had wanted your relationship to stay secret indefinitely, any breach of that could result in them terminating your security passes, removing every evidence of you from their systems. You’d become the blemish on their perfectly manicured boyband. You, the biracial American they had tried to dissuade Jungkook from dating. You, the woman who had stolen the hearts of every BTS member, becoming an integral part of their stories and lives. You, the woman Jungkook was going to marry… And he’d tossed it away.

The team came through to check out JK’s hand. It was fine, superficial scrapes. Nothing that ice and rest wouldn’t heel. Make up would cover the rest, like they had done with his tattoos. They could always wipe away any signs of his rebellion.

The bigger problem was the scene he’d made, and the team had been called and would spend the next week scouring the internet for evidence. Did the guy he hit know who he was? If he did, would he want money? Did the lawyers need to draft an NDA for him? Would they have to buy off website after website, fan sites and reddit threads from posting any evidence of what Jungkook did? Would the urban legend live on, that Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae, was dating an American and had punched a man in her honor?

After the team finished with his hand, Jungkook made his way to the living room, slumping onto the couch, tears stinging as he tried to blink them away. The members trickled into the living room, sitting around him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Taehyung asked.

“We always talk when we fight,” Jin added.

“I’m sorry if I’ve endangered you, or your futures,” Jungkook said, staring straight ahead. He couldn’t face them. He couldn’t let them know that pride had bested him. Pride, the most insidious of all emotions, had wormed its way into his being.

“It was so stupid,” Yoongi replied.

“You didn’t hear what he said.” Jungkook whispered.

“What did he say?” Yoongi challenged. 

“First, he spit at me, and called me a China man, said that they should’ve dropped an A-bomb over all of Asian, rid us all from the planet…”

Yoongi regretted challenging him.

“Then, he looked at her, he,” Jungkook took a deep breath, “He looked at her and he said that he would never fuck a bitch with yellow fever.” His tears fell freely, the weight of the racism breaking him down. His hyungs sat silently, staring at one another. They’d never been the subject of a violent, xenophobic tirade before. They’d heard comments, they weren’t idiots, they knew it existed. But to Jungkook? To you?

Jungkook had punched the man because he insulted him, he used the most derogatory names he could think of, and he wasn’t sorry. Attacking Jungkook was par for the course, what the man had really been disgusted by was you. How could you, caramel skin and curvaceous figure be dating Jungkook? How could you, with that earth-shattering smile, be willingly dating a man who came from the Orient? Jungkook had defended himself, and he wasn’t sorry he had. He wasn’t sorry that he’d defended your honor. He wouldn’t apologize for it.

Jin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Jimin, Namjoon and Ho-Seok sat with him until his tears had dried. They held him close, their silence wrapping around him, offering him the comfort he desperately wanted from you. When his breathing had settled, Namjoon suggested he shower and get to sleep, they’d make sure you got home safely.

Jungkook let the water scaled his skin, turning the pale white to pink. He shortened his skin care routine and fell into bed, where the tears came again, and he clung to the space you should’ve been in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (v obsessed with all of this)


	6. Will It Be Enough?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’d had a fight, a really-bad-could-end-everything fight. Neither of you were sure what would happen, what Bang and Big Hit would want from you, whether or not swinging for the fences was going to result in a low batting average or the record for homers in a relationships timeline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finale of Peace ... but stay tuned for the sequel.

There’s a moment when you first wake up when the weight of the world, the weight of the day, doesn’t overwhelm you. Your to-do list waits, your mind is slowly waking itself and remembering whatever nightmare you’ve left for yourself to deal with. But you know it’s coming. As you woke up that morning, that sinking feeling engulfed you before you opened your eyes. Jack Antonoff was right, but your dread wasn’t waiting by your bed, it was thriving within you.

Rolling over, you checked the clock. 10AM on a Saturday is a fine time to wake up, but as you do, the flood of thoughts crashed over you. The dryness of your skin from the salty tears made you wince, and as you padded to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of coffee, you’re confronted with three realities, and leaning against your kitchen counter, you recount them to yourself.

  * First, you told him you couldn’t look at him anymore.
  * Second, he was verbally harassed last night, and you did nothing
  * Third, you’re not enough
  * You’re not enough to handle this
  * You’re not enough to be by his side
  * You’re just…



The third sent you reeling, but the second kept nagging at you like a mosquito bite in the middle of your back. It’s persistent itch slowly driving you mad.

You walked yourself through the events of the night, through Jungkook’s response, through your own. You yelled, you fucking hated yelling, it had no place in your relationship… The guys had been there, they’d tried to ration… Jungkook tried to… But he didn’t… You didn’t … It’s all coming back, the bits and pieces of the hurt you hurled at him, your Jungkook, your love, the man you’d give every wild you had to… the father of your child… And here you were, sipping coffee, trying to organize your thoughts into something cohesive to make up or make sense of the hurt you hurled at him.

You took to your phone to open Spotify and saw his plentiful texts, sent throughout the night… single lines of longing trying to reach you.

_Jagi, I’m just checking in. I love you._

_Baby, I hope you get some sleep. I love you._

_I love you._

_Our love isn’t for show… please_

_Love you, so much_

You stared, your thoughts being overwhelmed by the profound sadness you felt towards him, because of him. With tears in your eyes, you moved to your bathroom, hot water scalding your skin as it came cascading down around you.

Jungkook awoke, but if he was honest, he didn’t really sleep. Wedged between a wall and Ho-Seok, having not planned to stay with the members at all, he found himself uncomfortable, his mind stuck on the image of you, telling him you couldn’t look at him. You, walking away from him, telling him not to follow you or talk to you. _You_ … The texts he sent left unanswered. His pleas to you to talk to him, to say anything, to say that you loved him too… unreciprocated.

He carefully climbed out of bed around 9AM, tiptoeing into the gym, trying to work out his frustration on the treadmill.

_One mile._

_Two miles._

_Three miles._

As he ran, he replayed the events in his head. He went to the bathroom, leaving you with a guard nearby and taking one with him. He came back and saw that man circling you, a vulture preying on a seemingly isolated fledgling. Jungkook approached, he watched the man attack, trying to get anything from you, and you, stunning in your skintight black jeans, moto jacket draping over your shoulders, studded booties protecting your feet… Jungkook tried to protect you. You, the object of his desires, you, your dazzling smile and friendly demeanor, a mere _kill_ to that man. But the man wasn’t after you, he was after Jungkook. If one prey was left alone, the herd was nearby, and Jungkook was proof of that.His eyes became bugged as he watched Jungkook step in front of you, Jungkook, nearly six feet and pure muscle, shirt unbuttoned dangerously low, chest seemingly smooth. Jungkook, tattooed covered hand, rings absently adorning digits, undercut fresh, hair slightly pulled back, glowering over him.

Jungkook was the vulture, and weak prey does what it can to escape the predator, it distracts and deflects.

Jungkook wanted to be the threat, he wanted to use his height and physique as a way to protect you from that man. But what you hadn’t accounted for was the man’s mouth, his beliefs, his disgust that you would be dating someone so, _Asian_. It didn’t matter if Jungkook could beat the shit out of him, it didn’t matter that he could grind seeds in his palms or use his falsetto after dancing nonstop for three minutes. It didn’t matter, because in that moment, when the man realized that you belonged to Jungkook, his xenophobia and ignorance raged more powerfully than Jungkook’s fists ever could. Jungkook knew it, as the man’s eyes drifted between you… He knew it would come to blows.

Stepping off the treadmill, sweat soaking his clothing, he picked up his phone. No calls. No texts. No Instagram updates. No tweets. You’d gone to ground, and he was desperate to hear from you. He dialed, knowing full well you wouldn’t answer. You never spoke before you were ready, you never made a decision that wasn’t thought out… He knew you well enough to know you’d be processing, but he needed you to know he was still there, he was still so close… A call, a text, and he’d be at your door.

You sat still as your phone rang, his name and ID flashing… A photo Taehyung had taken on your last trip to Korea... A rainy day spent in sweats and watching your favorite movies, trying to show them films that were important to you. Subtitles on, and when the situation called for it, Namjoon translating. Jungkook had fallen asleep, his head resting on a pillow in your lap, fingers intertwined with yours. You sat slowly raking your fingers through his hair, smiling as you watched the film. The moment was too cute to pass up, and Taehyung snapped the pic. You watched it fade to black, and he listened as it rang and rang.

_“Noona, please, please talk to me. I love you; I love you so much and I, just please call me.”_

He picked up the weights, heavier than he needed, hand still hurting from the punch, and became determined to burn himself out before he could dare to think about your accusations.

You’ve sat with him in the trenches, been there for his biggest hits and greatest wins. But you weren’t convinced he’d stand by your side. You didn’t believe he’d die for you, you didn’t believe that he’d take a bullet for you, to protect your honor, to defend his own he’d… He’d die for you, on the front page, on national television. He’d give you anything you wanted, everything you wanted, but would it be enough?

Dropping the weights, mind spent, Jungkook ambled throughout the Airbnb, showering, forcing himself to eat, his bandmates asking if he was okay.

“I still haven’t heard from her,” He whispered.

“She’s safe, she’s at home,” Namjoon said, watching his maknae with sympathetic eyes.

“I know,” He responded, eyes trained on the counter. He felt uncomfortable standing with his brothers in the spot where she had walked out on him, where she’d lay bare her fears and insecurities. It felt wrong, like the place should be torn down, burned, never to be built upon again. Anything to erase the memory.

“She hasn’t said anything to us either,” Taehyung added, wrapping an arm around Jungkook.

“Is that supposed to make him feel better?” Yoongi asked, making his way through the kitchen to grab an apple.

“She isn’t just icing him out,” Taehyung clarified.

“What are you going to say to her?” Yoongi questioned.

“I don’t really want to talk about this,” Jungkook said, eyes finally moving to look at his bandmates. “I just, I just want to talk to her.” He stood, tears starting to form again and moved towards the backyard. As he pressed into the grass, his phone buzzed.

_Come over please_

Jungkook bounded from the car to your front door, knocking frantically, enthusiastically, begging for entrance into your home. You approached slowly, a deep breath being drawn as you unlocked the door and stepped back, letting Jungkook slowly step over the threshold.

“Baby, I-” He was cut off by your lips, hands reaching to pull him too you, your lips meeting in the middle. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His wet hair brushed your cheeks as you moved your arms to wrap around his neck, fingers instinctively playing with the hair at the nape. He growled lightly, bottom lip between his teeth, and started to move you, slowly, through the living room and down the hallway of your bungalow to your bedroom. Your hands moved down his clothed shoulders before slowly reaching up underneath his sweatshirt to rest on his bare chest, and as you pulled away for air, he deftly slid it over his head and tossed into a pile.

“I want you,” You whispered, his hands gripping your hips, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed. You slowly opened your eyes, looking through your lashes at him.

“I need you,” He whispered, the intensity in your gaze doubling as he stared. “Always, you.”

You brought him onto the bed swiftly, lips connecting as he nestled himself between your thighs.

“I love you,” You said as his hands began to tug at your shirt, carefully guiding it off your frame. “So much.”

“I love you,” Jungkook said, his gaze staying with yours as he slipped his hand down the front of your leggings, splitting your lips open and taking a tentative stroke.

“Take them off,” You said, arm covering your eyes, giving into the feeling of him, Jungkook, Golden Maknae, lover.

He did as instructed, slowly spreading your legs, revealing yourself to him, your arousal clear and glistening, beckoning him to it. He wasted no time, no build up, no longing strokes or languid caresses. He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

Wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud, he began to suck, alternating slow gentle pulls with sharper, harsher puckers. He held your thighs down, strong hands splaying across the fat of your thighs, his favorite thighs, keeping you firmly pressed into the mattress.

Having sex with Jungkook was either one of three things:

  1. Slow and passionate
  2. Rough and overwhelming
  3. Gentle and giving



It had taken you two a while to find your stride, sexually. One of you was experienced, the other lacking, and finding a common ground was challenging, except for the fact that you both so desperately wanted one another. You’d waited a decent amount of time, in your opinion, before having sex. You’d been burned before, and sex was something you wanted to share with someone you cared about, who was invested in whatever you were building together. Jungkook had understood and felt similarly. Your aligning star signs, and a particularly tight pair of jeans and a too low-cut top had pushed things over the edge, and you’d consummated your relationship in your house, first in the bedroom, then in the kitchen, and finally, the floor in front of the fireplace.

Jungkook continued to attend to your clit, and when he felt you getting close, slipped two fingers inside, coaxing your walls to embrace him. The stretch, unwelcome at first, was exactly what you needed. Your orgasm crashed down, overwhelming you as a new batch of tears started to fall. You tried to maintain composure, the pleasure outweighing the guilt and pain. If not for yourself, for Jungkook. He noticed your change in demeanor, and slowly kissed up your body, straddling your waist and moving your hands from your eyes.

“Hey, noona,” He whispered, lowering his lips to kiss your tears. You turned your head, catching his lips as your hand slipped between you, palming his member through his sweats. He moaned greedily, hips involuntarily rutting at your touch.

“Jungkook,” You whispered against his lips. He slid off of you and stood, tossing his sweats and briefs into the same pile of clothes he’d tossed his sweatshirt.

“How do you-

“Just, like this,” You said, propped up on your elbows, staring at his naked form. You wanted to feel close, a part of him, like you’d felt the last time you’d made love. Yes, made love was the term Jungkook preferred. Sex could be, impersonal, emotionless, but making love… a phrase perfectly depicting what it was: love shared. You could tell from the glint in his eyes, the tears still spilling from your eyes, that the love making would be gentle and passionate, your favorite kind.

Jungkook nodded, moving back between your open and willing legs, hand stroking himself once, twice, before he angled his hips and gently pressed into you. Moans swirled as the sound of his flesh against yours echoed off the walls, your tears mixing with sweat as he slowly thrust in and out of you. Your eyes locked on his as he slid a hand between you, teasing you towards your second orgasm as he edged closer and closer to his first.

You wished it could be like this forever. The passion and heat between you hadn’t lessened in the years you’d been together, distance hadn’t made your wanting disappear, it only intensified. As you came down from your respective highs, Jungkook nipped at the skin on your shoulder, leaving a small love bite.

“I love you,” you whispered, eyes closed tight, unwilling to look at him.

“I know, noona, I know,” He whispered, eyes trained on your face. “Look at me,” His voice was gentle, an ask, not a demand.

You opened your eyes, tears slipping down your temples, soaking your hair and absorbing into the pillows. Silently, Jungkook pressed his lips to yours before rising. He disappeared into the kitchen, washing his hands before bringing you a glass of water, waiting patiently for you to return from the bathroom before handing it to you. Sipping silently, you pulled him into the bathroom and into the shower.

You’d both showered independently that morning, washing away your transgressions and anxieties from the night before. In the afternoon sunlight, the water brought you two together. As you washed each other, silence sitting in the atmosphere like low clouds, ridding themselves of the last few drops from the storm that had just raged.

Slipping into clean clothes, pulling him to you again, you tumbled into your bed, limbs intertwined as your head rested on his chest, rising slowly with his breathing. The exhaustion from the fight, the anger, the fear, coupled with the exhaustion of making love, and the comfort of a lovers embrace lulled you both to sleep, only awakening when Jungkook’s phone rang.

Groggily he answered, speaking swiftly in Korean.

“The guys want to know if we want to go to dinner with them,” He said, glancing down at your still form.

“Can we just stay in?” You asked, sleep still heavy in your body.

“Of course we can,” He said standing. He stepped into the hallway; his voice still hushed as he spoke to whomever called him. You tried to open your eyes, to will the drowsiness away, and slowly it did. You opened your eyes to a setting sun, and Jungkook leaning against the doorframe, sweats low on his hips, back bare.

Somewhere in his conversation he became animated, and you knew he could paint dreamscapes if he wanted.

“Jungkook?” You said, pulling his attention from his phone call. He looked at you and smiled softly before saying his goodbyes.

“Yes love?”

“I, I’m sorry,” You said, fidgeting with the skin on your thumb.

“I’m sorry too,” He offered, sitting on the bed, staring at you.

“I’m so sorry for everything, for yelling at you, for being so harsh and cold, and, and” 

His tattooed hand reached out to grab yours, a willing peace offering.

“I’m sorry I minimized your pain,” You looked at him. “I, I ignored it. I latched onto the one thing I could control, and that was what the world could see of me. I couldn’t register your hurt because I don’t know how to fix it or make it better or make people less hateful... so I got angry because our privacy is something I can navigate. I can manage if someone sees us together, or Instagram posts or twitter comments. That I can do, but last night,” You shook your head, trying to block the memories from invading. “I shut out your feelings, Jungkook, I didn’t acknowledge what you were going through, and I’m so _so_ sorry,” Your voice cracked as you uttered your apology. Jungkook was quick to move to you, pulling you against him, your fresh tears falling on his bare chest.

“I don’t know what it’s like to experience that level of racism and hatred. I know microaggressions, I’ve fielded a million. I know in America we put Asian Americans in internment camps, we passed laws that literally wouldn’t allow them to become citizens, or enter our country, we blamed them for COVID and our stock market tanking... We fetishize and demean and make light of thousands of years of abuse. I’ve experienced my own racism, and colorism, but I’ve never ... I hate that you were hurt. I hate that someone could spew that vile, repugnant bull shit at you. I hate that I couldn’t do anything to protect you. I hate that I was so insensitive. I love you, Jungkook. I’ll give you a son, I’ll give you my best, I’ll die for you in secret, in public, I don’t care… But Jungkook, I don’t know if it will be enough?”

Your eyebrows knitted together as you stared at him. Him, the Golden Maknae, the love of your life, the man of your dreams.

“I love you,” Jungkook said, holding your gaze. “I love you. I want you… So, what if you can’t bring me peace? What does that even mean? Of course, you are enough because I say you are, because you say you are. You are enough and so much more,” Jungkook broke as your joined vulnerability tore down any remaining emotional walls or self-preservation you’d put up.

You’d had a fight, a really-bad-could-end-everything fight. Neither of you were sure what would happen, what Bang and Big Hit would want from you, whether or not swinging for the fences was going to result in a low batting average or the record for homers in a relationships timeline. Neither of you cared. The ever-present question of whether either of you was enough for the other would eat away at you, dissipating only when lips touched, I love you’s exchanged, promises of forever etched on your hearts. You could be enough for one another… until he breaks into a million pieces and the shattered edges glisten with blood… then what?


	7. Clowns to the West

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This isn’t a slip up! This is a total disregard for decorum! For rules! For boundaries!” Bang yelled, voice echoing against the walls of the conference room.

“We can’t make them break up,” Mr. Cho, a Big Hit lawyer, told Bang and Sejin.

“Why not?” Bang asked.

“Both sides signed an agreement.” Ms. Lee, a second lawyer, reminded them.

“It’s in his contract, they have to remain secret,” Bang responded.

“They’ve been together almost three years and they’ve never had a slip up,” Mr. Yang said.

“This isn’t a slip up! This is a total disregard for decorum! For rules! For boundaries!” Bang yelled, voice echoing against the walls of the conference room.

“Do we know why Jungkook punched him?” Sejin inquired.

“Not yet,” Mr. Cho answered, eyes moving to Ms. Lee and Mr. Yang, conferring in silent glances.

“His hand is okay though,” Ms. Lee responded. “We got confirmation.”

“Good, who is posting it?” Mr. Yang asked.

“A few tweets have surfaced, no one on Weverse has said anything, and it doesn’t seem to be sold to anyone, _yet_ ,” Ms. Cho informed them. Her spectacled eyes stayed glued on her screen as she fielded emails, tweets and Weverse posts, mining for a hint that anyone knew what transpired.

“Do we have the name?” Bang wanted to know.

“We’re working on it, the lawyers in LA are fighting the clock to get the footage and receipts from the restaurant so we can narrow it down, we’ve got a team working on tracing him,” Mr. Cho said.

Mr. Cho, Ms. Lee and Mr. Yang had worked for Big Hit for all of three years. They had joined when Namjoon had led the insurrection, when BTS had demanded new contracts and lawyers that worked for the good of everyone, not only the executives of Big Hit. They worked closely with the band, fought for them, protected their rights and stood by them when Bang and Co were unreasonable. They had combed through the agency, ridding it of lawyers whose integrity was compromised, whose morals allowed them to turn a blind eye when discussions of what had happened to Jungkook occurred. They were poison, and Cho, Lee and Yang were resolute in their decisions to rid the company of them.

“The LA lawyers are arguing it was a hate crime, the man attacked first and Jungkook defended himself and y/n,” Mr. Yang said. 

“No one knows about his fight with Namjoon, do they?” Sejin inquired.

“It’s been three years, sir, if someone knows, they would’ve sold it by now,” Ms. Lee told him.

“This cannot get out.” Bang reiterated.

“What if it does?” Sejin questioned.

“Jungkook pays for having it scrubbed from the web,” Bang responded quickly.

“What will ARMY say?” Sejin pushed. The ever-present fear, the thorn in their side, what would ARMY do?

“They’ll be livid,” Bang responded, looking at Sejin.

“Angry at the person who assaulted Jungkook, or Jungkook for having a secret relationship?” Sejin asked.

“Both, they want Jungkook for themselves. Not only is he in a committed relationship, which he has lied about for nearly three years, but he met her when he was sent to rehab, and he’s punching men over her,” Bang ticked off each reason on his chubby fingers, not pausing when Sejin wanted to interrupt. “They’ll find the man and harass him until the day he dies.”

“Are they closer to getting married?” Ms. Lee interrupted.

“We should ask,” Sejin said.

“We asked when Jungkook came to us the first time,” Bang reminded him.

“He didn’t have an answer,” Sejin shrugged.

“He specifically asked that he be given the chance to see where it could go,” Mr. Cho had pulled up the initial agreement, signed years ago, never amended.

“They’d already been dating for six months at that point,” Mr. Yang said.

“He was too good at hiding it,” Bang whispered, eyes drifting from Sejin to the pictures that lined the office, images from concerts, award shows, when they received their medals and spoke at the UN. Images of their accomplishments, of their status, of their power.

“Namjoon told him he had to tell us,” Sejin spoke softly, pulling Bang from his reverie.

“They gave us answers to our questions,” Bang responded, voice still soft.

”I’ve never met a woman so angry before,” Mr. Cho said laughing.

“She was rightfully angry with us,” Sejin stated.

Bang’s eyes grew wide, creases in his forehead appearing as his glare bored into Sejin, “She nearly tore them apart.”

“ _We_ nearly tore them apart” Sejin corrected.

“We?” Bang’s voice had gone from a docile whisper to a yell, a change in decibels that surprised Sejin.

“We asked Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon to ask those questions. We gave them the list, we told them when they had to do it. We manipulated Jungkook for years. We have nearly torn them apart so many times, it’s a miracle they are standing.” Sejin was fuming, the total disregard for their behavior sickened him. He hated the way Bang ignored their actions, hoping no one would notice if they were quiet about it. They signed the bands new contracts, they agreed to allow Jungkook to date and ease up on their restrictions. They made plans to be better and now, with Jungkook hurting, they were discussing the possibility of hurting him again.

“And out of the ashes, Jungkook’s relationship,” Mr. Yang replied.

“Out of the ashes, Jungkook rises, again and again,” Sejin corrected.

“They came back with nothing,” Bang repeated.

“Disdain and anger,” Again Sejin corrected Bang’s revisionist memory. “They felt that before they spoke with her.”

“They’ve done a good job keeping their relationship quiet. Can’t we extend them a little grace?” Ms. Lee said, bringing the men back to the conversation at hand.

“No, they signed a contract,” Bang snapped.

“It was self-defense,” Mr. Yang reminded him.

“No one will care,” Bang said.

“They’ll want her name, how long they’ve been together, how they got together,” Mr. Cho listed the questions they too had asked.

“We tell them that Jungkook met her on contract mandated anger management and rehab? That we sent him to an outpatient treatment on the ruse of working on music and choreography in LA, when he was really in therapy because of the decade of abuse he endured at our hands?” Sejin countered Mr. Cho, angered that they continued to gloss over these inalienable truths.

“Don’t forget that Namjoon went out there too,” Mr. Yang added.

“Yoongi and Seokjin as well,” Ms. Lee aforementioned.

“They met at a restaurant by chance, that part is true,” Mr. Cho took a sip of his water, tired from the hours long meeting.

“While he was in rehab,” Mr. Yang amended.

“That we drove him to,” Sejin interjected. Unlike Bang, he kept his fury under the surface, simmering, bursts of steam the only sign that he was angered.

“Or that our agreement stated if he attended treatment, he could date,” Mr. Cho shrugged, tossing back a few aspirin with his water.

“Him and Namjoon, two relationships,” Bang muttered.

“Both Americans,” Sejin added.

“It’s less of a headache, less to hide,” Bang stated.

“How long until the rest come knocking?” Sejin asked.

“We’ll have to deal with their, sexualities,” Mr. Yang reminded them.

“They can’t be gay and a pop star,” Bang scoffed.

“They can in almost every other country in the world,” Ms. Lee told them. She had been a lawyer in Korea for years, and never had she been so conflicted about the integrity of her career as she was working for Big Hit.

“They can’t leave us, do we have enough to stand upon?” Bang’s mind was moving to the worst-case scenario, Jungkook breaking his contract, the other six following. They were a unit, they were a team, they couldn’t stand without each other. They didn’t have to, and they never wanted to.

“Financially? Yes, for a while,” Mr. Yang answered.

“But what will our name mean?” Sejin pondered aloud, “Our legacy if the seven of them decide either after their next negotiations, after service, or before, that they don’t want to be represented by an organization that denies them love, relationships, a family?”

“We follow the same policies as every other agency,” Bang said.

“Yes, but do they have as much power and clout as we do?” Sejin questioned. “Who will we be if we don’t let them date who they want, love who they want, marry who they want?”

“Page Six,” Ms. Lee called.

“Who?” Bang asked, temper rising.

“Page Six and TMZ, they’ve got it,” Ms. Lee clarified.

“Get it down!” Bang roared.

“What if they won’t?” Mr. Yang asked.

Bang took a deep breath, regaining his composure before he spoke, “No amount of money is too much.”

“How much is Jungkook willing to pay?” Mr. Cho inquired.

“Call and -

“Don’t call, get it down and we can negotiate with him later,” Bang instructed.

“They’ve got video,” Ms. Lee told them.

“Video!” Bang and Sejin yelled.

“Let me see it, _now_!” Bang roared.

The video was tossed on the screen, and in grainy footage, they could see the man approach you. They could see him grab you, Jungkook telling him to back off. In fuzzy audio they heard bits and pieces of the various slurs and they watched as you and Jungkook froze before his fist collided. The video was coupled with dozens of bad photos, none miraculously, capturing his tattoos. In the rush to leave the bar, there was a single instant, a moment, where the undercut can be seen, the earrings flash, a slight blur of ink, and a side profile that looks almost, _almost_ , like Jungkook flashes across the screen.

The team sat, clicking through the photos, watching the video over and over. For what it’s worth, and it’s worth a lot, you never yell his name. You never identified the man you’re with, and other than a blur of skin, your face couldn’t be made out. The only thing that was obvious was the man spewing hate. His volume louder than anyone else’s.

It’s in the moments of watching the video over and over, looping the audio, sending it to engineers to enhance, that more photos began popping up, better quality, videos with clear shots of Jungkook’s face.

Bang and Sejin are on the phone with lawyers and conglomerates, trying to pay by the hundred thousand, reaching out to their already made contacts in hopes of stopping this.

They could barely admit it, but they were scared.

Scared of ARMY’s reaction.

Scared of what this means for Namjoon and the others.

Scared for the safety of you and Jungkook.

Scared their stocks will tank.

Scared that BTS will walk.

Scared that their lies and manipulation will come to light.

Scared that hate speech and racial slurs will spill out from the dark corners they’ve been hiding.

Scared of the power they created.

Scared of the dynamic they were breathing in.

But more than that, they’re scared that they have, again, in an attempt to control him, given Jungkook _too_ _much_.

It never matters what Big Hit has taken from him. Only what he’s given, and the promise of more in the future. A scandal of this size, a hidden lover, unsure if Jungkook would do anything to stop it, was enough for them to pay extra to have teams monitor for the next several hours, weeks, even months to ensure it doesn’t get out. It’s enough for them to put Jungkook on stricter orders, to attempt to amend his contract, to attempt to cage him in. They’ve got him on his tiptoes, spinning, shining for them with the threat of shattering looming above them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (peace is officially completed. look out for the sequel.)

**Author's Note:**

> (There will be a sequel)


End file.
